I’ve mentioned Moses, my sweet formerly feral silver tabby, a few times in stories lately, and in researching photos for a project I flipped past this photo of her—of her nose, in a position I always loved as her chin was tucked into her chest, such a very common posture for her. I know she was purring her soft little breathy purr and the tip of her tail was tapping the wood of the deck with happy regularity. She was getting her daily thermonuclear treatment and nothing, nothing at all, was going to make her move until the sun was gone.
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